


The Sun Was Shining Everywhere

by lady_ragnell



Series: A Foggy Day (In London Town) [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Foggy Nelson got his nickname.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sun Was Shining Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> At one point I made [a prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/4501.html?thread=8400533#cmt8400533) on daredevilkink wanting Foggy and Angie to be family, and then I couldn't resist writing it!
> 
> The title is from "A Foggy Day (In London Town)," which has been covered by many people.

Angie offers to take Franklin when she goes to visit Anna in the hospital. Anna is fine, but she's stuck in the hospital for two more weeks and her husband has plenty to worry about with two older girls and a baby in the NICU. He doesn't need a two-year-old on his hands too. “I'll take him home with me,” Angie offers while she picks through the flower arrangements both sides of the family have sent. Angie's is the best, but really, that's only expected. “He likes me. Don't you, kid?”

Franklin removes his fingers from his mouth, and his lip is already wobbling. The little charmer is going to end up on Broadway just like his great-aunt, Angie can already tell. He's got a great sense for drama. “Yes.”

“Aunt Angie, I really can't ask you to take him on—aren't you busy?”

“The show isn't opening for almost a month, and Peg can watch him while I'm in rehearsals.” It will be good for her. She's been pacing around New York since she scaled back to consulting work and she could use a kid to chase around. If it can't be _her_ great-niece, with her parents in DC, it can be Angie's great-nephew. “Come on, we'll have a great two weeks. I'll teach him Rodgers and Hammerstein and Peg will teach him French, it'll be fun. Doesn't that sound more fun than sitting in the hospital, Franklin?”

“Mom,” says Franklin, which could really mean anything.

Anna is won over, though, Angie can already tell. “I'll have to talk to Edward, but I know his mother is watching the kids and she might be glad if it was just two instead of three.”

“Wonderful.” Angie stands up and holds out an expectant hand for Franklin, who stumbles out of the chair and takes it. He's sticky, but Angie is prepared for that. “We'll just go to your place and pack him a bag and talk to Edward, you just worry about healing up. I'll call you every night. Come on, kid, let's go!”

The key to an escape is timing. After forty years of knowing Peg Carter, Angie knows how to make a great escape.

*

Angie probably shouldn't play favorites with her family, but she's always liked Anna, who didn't take anyone's shit and always badgered Angie for tickets to her shows and trips to her movie sets, and Franklin is her favorite of Anna's kids. He's a Nelson all over, dirty blonde hair and button nose and sturdy legs, but he's got the Martinelli grin and the Martinelli charm. Franklin's a pretty terrible name to inflict on a kid, especially a two-year-old, but Anna doesn't like calling him Frank and Angie doesn't either. She and Peggy have both known way too many Franks.

Franklin, she's pretty sure, likes her too, because Anna was saying on the phone that he's hardly stopped crying since she went into the hospital, but he beams the whole time Angie packs up his stuffed duck and his spaceship blanket and the three books he apparently refuses to go to sleep without hearing at least one of.

“Are you gonna be okay without your sisters and your parents?” she asks him when they're all packed up and she's breezed past Edward's protestations that he can't put her to the trouble. He should know by now that she takes exactly as much trouble as she wants to.

“Yes,” Franklin decides after a judicious silence. He's normally a chatterbox of a kid, babbling at her on the phone when Anna puts him on even if he doesn't know many words yet, so he's definitely still upset, but Angie is a pretty great fairy godmother.

“Well, you let me know if that changes,” she says, and takes him home before anyone can decide it's a bad idea.

*

“You brought a child home,” says Peg over dinner that night. “You know your home isn't remotely child-proof, don't you?”

“It's only for two weeks, and you're here to watch him while I'm in rehearsal.”

Franklin is tired, almost nodding off into his mac 'n' cheese, and his big eyes and yawns are clearly winning Peggy over. She likes kids, most of the time, and Franklin looks just enough like Sharon that Angie figures they're golden. “What are we supposed to do with a toddler for two weeks, Angie? We haven't got enough food that he'll like, or a high chair, or ...”

“We'll deal with it, English.”

“English,” says Franklin, perfectly pronounced and serious, and then yawns. This kid is going places.

“This is still a bad idea,” says Peggy, and then she stands up and sweeps Franklin into her arms. “Come along, little man, let's get you to bed and hope that your Great-Aunt Angie thought to pack you something proper to sleep in.”

“We'll sleep,” Franklin agrees, and Angie grins behind them while Peggy sweeps him out of the room.

*

Peg isn't very good at the piano. She says she had lessons when she was a kid, before the war, and Angie made her take some more in the fifties, when her star was on the rise on Broadway and she wanted help practicing at home and they still had Howard's piano in the penthouse to practice on. These days, she only plays when coerced, but Angie discovers within a day of babysitting Franklin that she's easier to coerce when there's a kid who stops crying immediately whenever he hears singing.

Angie's the one to start singing, starting off with “Twinkle Twinkle” when he starts crying for his mom on the first morning, and when she goes off to make herself some coffee she hears Peggy playing it on the keyboard in the living room and when she goes back Franklin is enthralled, and it's the household's new favorite activity.

They run out of kids' songs after about half an hour and Angie breaks out forty years of Broadway. He likes Gilbert and Sullivan and hums along with Andrew Lloyd Webber, but he gets delighted when Angie breaks out the old chestnuts, voice breaking a little from singing too long without warming up, Peggy mouthing curse words over the jazz chords.

“This one is English's favorite,” she confides when she starts running out of songs to sing, and starts in on “A Foggy Day in London Town,” which makes Peggy snort.

“It's my favorite too,” he decides when they finish. “More?”

Peg looks like she wants to object, but Angie elbows her. “Come on, English, let's indulge the kid.” It's always been the one she sings with a wink, just for the two of them even though they've never actually been in London at the same time, what with their jobs. It's nice to have Franklin in on it too, in some way. “One more time.”

*

It's not one more time.

Angie starts regretting it a little when every morning and evening and at least twice more throughout the day Franklin yells “Foggy!” and waits expectantly for one or both of them to start singing the song. It's funny, though, and it gets Peg singing more than she has in years even though carrying a tune is just about the only thing she can't do, so Angie doesn't mind too much.

She takes him to a Penzance matinee off-Broadway and they only stay for the first act before he starts fussing, and she spoils him rotten feeding him half the candy in Manhattan, but the most fun he has is in the house, at the keyboard, playing with the settings and demanding they sing his favorite songs.

“He's going to be a terror when he's older,” Peggy observes one afternoon, while he's smashing around on the keyboard to a synthetic drumbeat that's already giving Angie a headache. “A charming terror, perhaps, but a terror nonetheless. Give him twenty years and I'll tell Nicholas to recruit him, five minutes on the piano and anyone he interrogates will be singing like a canary.”

“I bet that one took you all day to come up with,” says Angie. “And don't you dare. I've got big plans for my great-nephew on Broadway. You'll break Anna's heart if you turn him into a spy. She's probably got ideas about him going into the family business, too. I like my idea best.”

“Don't you always?”

“Foggy,” Franklin demands from by the keyboard.

It's a good thing she knows how to make a show fresh every night by now. Having a toddler is worse than having a Broadway audience. “We may as well call him that,” says Angie with a sigh, and drags Peg over to the keyboard.


End file.
